Days of A Future Past
by honeybeebear
Summary: It's been five long years since the day he left. In a beautiful beach house on the cliffside of Montauk Olivia and Rafael finally confront the past.
1. Chapter 1

The crunch and crackle of gravel beneath the tires of the rented Escalade signaled the crossing of the line between the well known cityscape of New York City and Upstate's quiet countryside. A heavy snow swirled about the windshield as the large SUV crawled up the driveway towards the pale blue beach house on the water's edge, and from behind the wheel, Olivia squinted through the dancing flakes at the house number affixed to the mailbox.

She almost wished she'd found herself at the wrong location. Perhaps, it would be easier to send a text with an apology of being lost. Even in this massive vehicle that had been well above her budget for this trip she felt unnervingly small and cowardly. Her typical nerves of steel were worn thin after the rushed plans over the weekend. She'd always known she'd drop everything for him, but it was unsettling just how quickly this whole, insane mission to Montauk had become a reality.

Creeping up the neatly plowed driveway, she couldn't ignore the sweat lining her palms. She wasn't ready. After five damn years of waiting for this phone call, she wasn't ready.

Would it be like they had never parted? Would their conversations come as easily as they once had? Would something _finally_ give way? She was both terrified and desperate for something to change.

As the Escalade reached the end of the driveway, she shifted into park, and sat back in the leather seat. Breathing out, she ran her hands over her face, cupping her mouth as she stared up at the three story beach house. The structure sat on struts against the stoney shoreline, rising against the incline with beautiful grace, but she could hardly admire the architecture. Her heart was racing shallowly in her chest, and the strong instinct to turn right back around currently fought to overtake her.

She blinked quickly when she noticed the back door on the second level opening. He emerged, layered in a long, dark coat and scarf which bunched around his neck and ears. She watched him descend the stairs before she could force herself into action. Shutting the engine off, she fumbled for the seatbelt with trembling hands. By the time she pushed the car door open and began to climb down, he was braving his way down the driveway, his face squinted against the cold and snow.

She slid down from the Escalade, and shut the door behind her, though a rush of emotion had taken over her faculties. She wanted to blame the freezing temperatures as her eyes stung with tears, but the knot in her throat didn't lie.

He reached her, his green-grey eyes cutting through the flakes and the fog of their breath in the air.

"Liv." He said, her name uttered in a single, rough syllable, and a hint of a hopeful smile tugging at his lips.

She stared back at him, her chest expanding sharply, and for a moment she couldn't move, unable to decide whether she should fling herself into his arms or whether she should scream and slap at him. No reply seemed sufficient. How does one greet their best friend after five, long, silent years?

"Rafa." She managed to say at last, her tone halting.

She couldn't even bend her tongue to the use of his full name rather than what must be a long forgotten nickname to him.

"Let's get in out of the cold." He answered after a moment, extending his arm to her.

His gaze was warm, but she hesitated for a moment, unsure of what would happen once she touched him. Would this whole illusion shatter, revealing itself as some strange, twisted dreamscape? She didn't want to reach out for him again only to pushed away and crushed once more, but his expression belied no animosity or duplicitous intentions. She clung to the familiar, hidden softness of his eyes, just inside the rough edges that had taken her years to peel back. Relieved that at least something remained of their former selves, she reached for his arm.

When her wind bitten fingers wrapped around the wool texture of his coat, then to his arm beneath, it seemed surreal to be touching him, to feel the solid, tangible evidence of him next to her. She stared down at their point of contact for a moment, swallowing hard against emotion that raged as spitefully as the storm around them.

"Come on." He murmured once more, reaching up to touch the back of her hand, as if he could sense the debilitating feelings which nearly paralyzed her.

He directed them towards the beach house, and she stepped forward slowly, following him in a daze up the snowy slope. When they reached the stairway, they climbed upwards in silence save for his quiet warning not to slip. She clutched his arm tighter, fighting against every desire to collapse to the cold, icy stairs and sob.

Despite what she wanted to believe, she'd barely arrived, and it was yet to be seen which turn this trip would take. She'd always believed in his ability to right the wrongs of the world, no matter what, but after his own decision to escape into this reclusive existence as well as the events that had preceded his disappearance, she wondered if she really even knew him anymore. His greeting her with open arms meant nothing if this conversation was only a closure of the past, the final closing of the door to what could have been, and the overwhelming feelings of seeing him again, coupled with the fear of a second abandonment nearly sapped even her strength to walk.

She clung to his arm for the entirety of their trek up the stairs, loathe to willingly surrender their embrace when they reached the top. He opened the door for her, and gestured for her to step inside. She hesitated for a moment, her heart palpitating as he willingly offered her his home. It seemed strange now to invade his privacy after five long years, but she reminded herself that he had asked her here.

As she entered, her eyes immediately roved across his intimate space, and she realized that even before he'd left she'd never really seen the inside of his home. He'd been to her apartment plenty of times, showing up at odd hours and unexpectedly. He'd never asked if she minded, but she'd never thought to mind in the first place. She'd always been somewhat relieved when he'd arrive again, tossing his briefcase to the floor and tugging off his tie and jacket. She'd pour him a drink, and listen to him talk. It didn't matter what he said; she'd taken it all in, simply watching his expressions and gestures as he spilled upon her the frustrations of the day. They'd never acknowledged why. They'd simply been friends; very good friends and nothing more.

Stepping inside his home now she knew this conversation would be nothing like the ones they used to have.

She wandered forward as the entryway opened into the dimly lit living room. Despite the room being immaculate, it was still cozy. A fireplace presided at the front wall, the massive stoneface rising up to the dark, wood paneled ceiling. The floors shone from beneath the thick rug, and the leather of the plush couch glinted in the fire's light. She noticed the bookcases against the wall, lined with literature and law books. Another small breath of relief exited her lips at the sign that a part of the man she'd cared for so much still lived inside this unfamiliar setting.

"How was your drive?" Rafael asked as he shrugged his coat off.

"Fine, thank you." She whispered, not paying much mind to the truth of her answer as she began unbuttoning her own coat.

He quickly moved to assist her, sliding the coat from her arms and hanging it next to his.

"Not too slippery I hope." He continued. "Would like some cocoa? Tea?"

"Rafael…" Olivia murmured, turning towards him. "I…"

"Let me get you something." He stopped her.

She stuttered as he quickly left her side, heading into the kitchen through the tall archway to their right. She watched him retrieve the kettle and begin to heat the water, his head bent.

She couldn't escape the sense that his hospitality was born out of guilt rather than politeness. She had often wondered whether he felt any remorse at all for walking away as he had, and now she realized that she'd been foolish for thinking otherwise in the midst of her own grief. Watching him now, she noticed that the silver that had once only touched his temples had spread across thick portions of his hair, and the lines in his face were somehow deeper.

"You can have a seat." Rafael called back towards her. "This won't take long."

She released a low sigh and turned her eyes away from his back. Wandering towards the couch, she sank to the cushions. A soft afghan was thrown across the seat as if he had been sitting here when she arrived. She picked it up and brought it closer, noticing that she could still feel the warmth from his body in the material. Lifting it to her face, she pressed her nose and mouth into the blanket, hesitantly taking in the scent. Her eyes watered sharply as the familiar aroma filled her nostrils, rushing back to her as if it had only been yesterday that he'd pulled her to him and kissed her on the forehead. It was as close as they had ever been, and she'd held onto that moment in her mind for as long as her memory had allowed.

"Here we go." Rafael's voice interrupted her recollections, and she gasped softly, yanking the afghan from her face.

She forced a smile as he rounded the couch, the tea cup in hand. She tucked the afghan to the side with a trembling hand though she was remiss to let it go.

"Thank you." She said, reaching out to take the steaming cup.

"So, tell me," He said, taking a seat next to her. "How's Noah?"

"Good." She replied, smiling at the thought of her son. "He's with Amanda for the weekend."

"How old is he now? Ten?"

"Eleven next month." She replied with a short laugh, staring down at the cup. "Hard to believe…"

 _Hard to believe you've missed half his childhood._ She thought, though she squashed the words before they could form.

"And everyone else? He asked, his tone relaxed though she could sense his eagerness behind the leisurely facade.

"Good. Everyone's good." She answered, nodding quickly.

She could hear the tightness in her own throat, the way the tears rose to engulf her being. It was small talk, but maybe it was the worst kind. She could hardly stand the pleasantries when there were so many other things that they could say, so many more important things that had gone unnoticed for almost ten years as a whole now.

"Rafael…" She began, just as he spoke.

"Liv…"

She glanced up quickly, their eyes clashing for the first time since the driveway. Emotions bubbled in her chest, accusations and demands rushing up to her tongue so quickly that she could hardly stop them.

 _Why ask about everyone else? What about me? What about what you did to me? Don't you care at all? Why now? After all these years why even bother?_

She pressed her lips together tightly, tearing her eyes away as she turned her face sharply towards the opposite wall. A sob lurched in the back of her throat, and she quickly squeezed her hand over mouth, her eyes clenched shut. The tea cup wobbled in her other hand, dangerously close to spilling burning hot liquid onto her legs.

"Liv…" Rafael moved quickly closer, taking the cup from her hand as her shoulders began to shudder first, then her entire body.

"Jesus, I'm sorry…" He whispered, his tone wrought with regret and the strain of his own tears.

He discarded the cup to the side table before she felt his arms close around her, enveloping her head against his chest. The force of her anguish broke through the barrier of her trembling lips and fingers, and she sagged against him, releasing pent up cries which had lain dormant in her chest for hundreds upon hundreds of days. She grabbed fistfuls of his sweater as he cradled her head through the unending tremors wracking her body. She felt his lips touch the top of her head, gentle and hesitant, and she groaned at the gesture, for the last time he had touched her that way it had been a goodbye.

He didn't say anything more than the regretful apology, and for several long moments, the silence of the beach house was punctured only by the rise and fall of Olivia's whimpered cries.

At last, the peak of the painful outburst reached it's slowly dwindling end, but he had yet to release her. His fingers which had stroked through the hair at the base of her neck were frozen still now as she quivered in the aftermath, and the tears had dried on her face when she could no longer stand to wonder at what he was thinking.

She pulled back, slowly at first, and she felt the resistance in his arms, but it lasted barely long enough to be noticeable. She ducked away from him, rubbing her fingers under her eyes to wipe away the tears that lingered on her cheeks.

"Surely, you didn't think I came all the way out here to talk about everyone else." She said with a rough, mirthless laugh.

"Of course not." He replied, quickly, his head lowered. "I just wasn't sure what-... what you'd think of me."

"What I'd think of you?" She repeated, turning her gaze towards him. "I told you then and I'd tell you now, Rafael, you're one of the best men that I've ever known or worked with."

"Forget all that." He cut in, sharply, snapping his eyes back to hers. "That man didn't exist anymore after what I did."

"You were aquitted." Olivia whispered.

"Then good for those twelve people in the jury box." Rafael replied, his mouth tight in a grimace. "I'm certain that they never had to live with that baby's lifeless corpse in their mind for the rest of their miserable lives."

"Rafa," Olivia stopped him, reaching out to touch him arm. "It's been a long time since that case, and I think we both know that whether you had relieved his suffering or not that day, he wouldn't be alive right now."

Rafael released a low sigh, turning his eyes off towards the fireplace.

"That may be so," He murmured, quietly, "but I held him in my arms, Olivia. I felt the final breath go out of him, and no matter how merciful it was, that moment…."

A cringe crossed his features, and he lowered his head with a sharp inhale.

"I understand." Olivia whispered, turning her body to face him as she clasped his hand with both of hers. "But you didn't have to leave. I was going to stand by your side. I was going to-"

"To what, Liv?" He asked, casting her a sad, hopeless gaze. "Let me drag your squad and your name through the dirt? Bring every case you've ever brought me or would've brought me under intense scrutiny? Trust me, you didn't want me to stay."

"Maybe you didn't have to keep the job, but you could've at least…" Her voice trailed away, and she began to pull back, her chest twinging painfully once more.

"I couldn't keep you either, Liv." Rafael echoed, solemnly, though his fingers tightened around hers. "Whether you supported me or not I knew that I had damaged our relationship."

"But we could've worked through it." She insisted, fighting against a second wave of tears.

"Murder is a pretty high hurdle to jump." He scoffed softly, a sheen of emotion shining in his own gaze.

"Justifiable homicide." She whispered.

"Whatever you'd like to call it, Liv, I did it…" He murmured, glancing down with a heavy, wavering sigh. "And when I looked into your eyes I didn't think you'd ever forgive me."

"It wasn't mine to give." She insisted, grasping his hand harder.

"I will be paying dues to the family for the rest of my life, and I can live with that. But _you_ …" He whispered, his expression tainted with a grief she had long thought was one sided.

He lifted his free hand, his touch hesitant as his fingertips brushed her jaw in a reverent caress, and she fought not to crumble once more beneath the intimacy she had craved and mourned for so long. Dipping her cheek towards his hand, she clung to what she knew would be a fleeting moment of blissful contact.

"You…" He murmured, huskily, once more, and he drew his hand beneath her chin, lifting her face to his once more. "You were my Lady Justice, and the weight of that sin was far too much for even you to balance."

Her heart ached and fluttered in her chest, torn between the sharp edges of grief and the ragged blades of desire. She trembled, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes, and his thumb rose to catch the cascading emotion.

"I did what a could to spare you." He admitted, softly, "but I suppose neither of escaped unscathed."

She nodded slowly, swallowing against the knot in her throat. She'd thought of so many things to say in the past five years, and a dozen more while driving here, but now she could hardly speak. Instead, she sank into him, resting her head on his shoulder as she let the tears flee from beneath her lids, unchecked. His arm squeezed tight around her, and she felt his chest quiver against her cheek. She'd rarely seen him cry, and though she didn't lift her head, she reached down to clutch his hand.

He was safe with her, his sins, his sadness, his suffering, and she only wished he had realized that he always had been.


	2. Chapter 2

What little sun had shone through the heavy, dark clouds quickly succumbed to the waning of the evening, and though it was barely past six the light had faded from the sky. They'd sat on the couch for well over an hour, falling between contemplative silence and soft murmurs, their hands never parting.

The pain that had permeated Olivia's chest had calmed to a dull throb where her heart anxiously beat. Despite their raw, honest confessions to each other on their feelings over his departure, a sense of unfulfillment still nagged at her in the back of her mind.

In many ways, he still hadn't fully explained what had made him pick up the phone now, five years after the fact. She hadn't admitted why it had only taken a simple question - _will you come see me?_ \- for her anger and bitterness to shatter into a thousand shards of desperation.

They'd always been able to talk to each other, to coax the truth from the other's untrusting heart, but they'd barely dipped into the deepest pool of feelings between them. There was no reason now, no job or conflict of interest, to hinder them, and still her courage wavered; but perhaps, SVU and the DA's office had only been an excuse. She'd needed one then to snip back the blooming feelings which had so insistently pervaded her being in his presence, and maybe she still needed one now, if only to protect herself from the terrifying prospect of opening her most vulnerable parts to him. She had trusted him before, to an unprecedented extent, and he had walked away, letting her heart free fall to the cold sidewalk beneath the courthouse's looming edifice. She was unsure of why or how she still so readily wished to place herself in his hands once more, and that doubt held her tongue captive, a prisoner to her mistrust.

Instead, she skirted the subject, allowing him to carry the conversation as the discomfort in the pit of her stomach grew. Their bodies touching was a bittersweet agony which she could neither fully embrace nor outright reject. Her mind wandered between gentle fantasies of a deeper embrace and the wild opposite of tearing herself from the couch, and escaping to a place where confronting her desires would be much easier to avoid.

At last, Rafael broke a lull of quietude in the beach house, and the roar of thoughts spinning through in her head, with a rough chuckle as he glanced at his watch.

"Where have my manners gone? You must be starving."

Lifting her head from his shoulder, she blinked away the distraction of her racing mind, attempting to ground herself in the present conversation, as menial as it seemed.

"Oh…." She murmured, as his words settled into her mind.

She had barely thought of basic necessities since stepping into this house, but she realized now that a cup of coffee and a protein bar from the rest stop hours ago had hardly been sufficient.

"I'll make us dinner if you like." Rafael offered. "Unless, of course, you don't want to stay…"

She felt his fingers stroke a tendril of her hair at her shoulder, and her stomach fluttered instantly. It felt so much like a quiet plea, and the small gesture immediately squashed her thoughts of leaving.

 _It's early._ She assured herself of her logic. _We've barely seen each other. I can't leave right now…_

"Dinner would be nice." She said, extricating her fingers from his in order to hide the tremor that it worked its way through her body.

"Very well then." Rafael replied with a smile as he began to stand from the couch. "I've just bought some fresh fish from the market down by the water."

"That sounds wonderful." She replied, softly.

It was the first spark of genuine joy she'd seen on his face since arriving and the prospect of dinner together reminded her of the way their friendship had begun. So many long nights and hard conversations had been eased over a restaurant's booth or at a bar stool with a drink in hand. It was a common pattern for them, and she was drawn to that familiarity like a moth to a light, but unlike the moth, she understood the dangers of flying so close to that electric heat.

Naivety was long past, yet when Rafael held out his hand to hers, she grasped it again just as quickly as she had let go. Following him from the couch, she shadowed his footsteps, barely hiding the tremor in her fingers at his touch, as he lead her into the kitchen.

"Wow." She murmured as she took in the room for the first time. "This looks like it belongs in a magazine."

The kitchen was as pristine as the rest of the home, boasting a wide, stainless steel, gas stove top, and a smooth granite counter. The tiled backsplash was a white perfection as were the rows of cabinets and shelves.

"Cooking is a simpler pleasure I've embraced." Rafael replied as they reached the double wide island and offered her a stool to sit on.

Sliding up onto the stool, she awkwardly retracted her hand. She could not decide whether it was a relief or a disappointment to be bereft of his unwavering grip once more, and she clasped her hands together, rubbing at the tingle that lingered across her knuckles.

"I'm sure you'll make it look as simple as it sounds." She forced herself to answer with a casual laugh. "I never could find the artistry in it."

"It's a give and take relationship." Rafael commented as he began to take down the pans from the rack which hung above them. "You must nurture the flavor in order to get the best of what the food has to offer."

"Sounds complicated." She murmured, her stomach tumbling at his analogy as she watched him set the pans on the stove and begin to heat them.

She'd never been the best as cooking nor at relationships, and she could only wonder now what he meant by the cryptic words. Gazing down at the granite, she followed the swirling patterns with her eyes, imagining how he could be so composed and illusive with his feelings after their experience on the couch while she struggled to make basic conversation.

"Would you like a glass of wine?" Rafael asked as the gas crackled to life on the stove. "I seem to remember a favorite red of yours."

"That actually sounds amazing." She said with quiet laugh, relieved that he offered the reprieve of her trusted stress reducer.

It warmed her that he remembered so many fine details, yet it also struck her with immense sadness. How many evenings had they missed together, so many shared drinks or dinners? No matter how sweet the nostalgia the sting of regret was a quick and bitter chaser.

"What will it be?" Rafael asked as he passed her on the pass to the wine cooler.

She heard him opening the door and his voice echoed from within.

"Pinot? Merlot? Cabernet Sauvignon?"

"Merlot is fine." She replied, though her throat was clenched tight once more.

His kindness was almost as brutal as his silence had been. She felt gutted with remorse for so easily accepting his hospitality as she recalled the anger that held her back from simply picking up the phone and calling him. He'd never know the many texts she had begun, only to erase them as tears burned eyes. He couldn't possibly understand the thoughts that had run through her mind when the worst of his betrayal had gripped her.

Maybe, she had wanted to blame him for their lapse in communication, but she knew better. He would've expected her coldness in the wake of his leaving, and she couldn't claim otherwise when she'd spent so many nights hating what he had done and how he had disappeared. Even if she'd eventually come to terms with his absence it hadn't always been so. She'd come here imagining that his had been the only decision to commence these past five years of silence, but now she realized that she too had helped him make this bed. She'd smoothed the covers down, and wallowed upon it month after month when all she had truly wanted was to reach out for him.

As Rafael began to emerge from the wine cooler, she rubbed her fingers beneath her eyes to chase away the stray tears which had formed during her epiphany of guilt. They'd come here to be honest with each other, but there were some things she wasn't ready to speak aloud.

"Here we are." Rafael announced. "1978 Petrus…"

His voice trailed away as he came to stand next to her, and his gaze found the tears lingering in her own.

"Liv…" He murmured, placing the wine bottle on the counter, and reaching for her hand again.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." She laughed, hoarsely, attempting to appear flippant over the emotions he'd clearly seen.

His brow furrowed, doubt winding through the intensity of his scrutinizing gaze, and averted her eyes. She wasn't ready for this particular leg of the journey of their reunion, and she was not at all convinced that he was either. He might've picked up the phone, hut he'd barely acknowledged his deepest intentions.

"Don't mind me." She insisted with another dismissive chuckle. "It's just been a very long time since anyone cooked for me."

She flicked her eyes in his direction, hoping that he wouldn't question her further. She was relieved when his forehead smoothed as though he too was grateful to skim over their feelings once more.

"I'll have to make that up to you then." He managed to tease at last, although his tone was not wholeheartedly convincing.

Taking the wine bottle, he went to the other side of the island and retrieved the cork opener from the drawer. She intertwined her fingers, clenching then hard together as she watched him deftly twist the screw into the top and easily pop the cork out.

"You make that look simple too." She laughed as he returned to pour her glass.

"Maybe just a little too much practice." He returned, a wry smile on his lips as he poured a generous amount of wine into her glass.

 _I'm going to need it._ She thought, accepting the drink and immediately taking a sip.

"Wow," She commented as the smooth, rich flavor slipped warmly down her throat. "That is good."

"Only the best for New York's Finest." He returned with a smile, and her heart fluttered.

It wasn't a direct compliment on the surface, but she could not help but to read into the soft tone of his voice, and the sparkle in his eye. She'd missed his quick wit and subtle affection. She briefly wondered if it was for that reason that she was making something out of nothing, before dismissing it. As charming as Rafael could be, he was never one to sugar coat. He was direct, honest, blunt, sometimes shockingly brutal in that bluntness. She wished he would use that honesty now where her own truthful tongue failed. Whatever he said could not hurt anymore than his leaving had.

"Now, for dinner." He commented as he went to the fridge and began to retrieve various ingredients. "I have some freshwater salmon and some beautiful prawns."

"Sounds delicious…" Olivia murmured, taking another sip.

In truth, she was struggling to focus on her appetite. She knew that Rafael would put every ounce of heart into whatever he prepared for her, but wining and dining together seemed so frivolous, a part of the charade that they'd kept up for five years as co-workers, then five years as a memory of each other.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Rafael interrupted her train of thought as he brought a cutting board to the island. "But somewhere along the grapevine I heard the name Captain Benson being dropped?"

Olivia smiled and ducked her head. "What grapevine was that?"

"An honest one, I hope." He replied as he began to peel the shallots. "You deserve it, Liv."

"Well, you won't be calling anyone a liar." Olivia hinted, cradling her glass closer to her lips.

Somehow, it was even harder talking about happy things with him rather than the depressing things. In the grand scheme of things, five years wasn't so significant, but in ways he'd so missed much. The thought that she didn't want him to miss anymore passed through her mind, and her chest seized.

"Incredible." Rafael murmured as he began to deftly chop the shallots and carrots. "There's no one better for the job."

 _There was no one better for your job either._ Olivia thought, the insight tainted with bitterness as she took another long sip.

"Well, you know I've always said they'll have to wheel me out in a body bag if they want me out of there." She attempted a jab at dark humor around the knot in her throat.

"Retirement isn't a word in your dictionary?" He commented, his tone nearly matching hers, but not quite.

She heard the hint of something else, something hopeful as they stood inside his beach side home. This place was a perfect picture of peace, of calm, and relaxation. She immediately glanced about, inadvertently imagining a retirement here with him. In her mind's eye she saw them on the couch, cuddling in front of the fire. On the balcony, she could see them barefoot, watching the sun rise. Down on the beach, they'd walk the shore, fingers tangled together, sea salt in their hair.

She ducked her chin and closed her eyes against the painfully beautiful scenarios as she wondered again what stood in their way.

 _One thousand eight hundred and twenty five days._ She reminded herself. _And all the abandonment and fear that comes with it._

"And what about you?" She finally forced out when the silence had stretched on too long. "I find it hard to believe that you would've beat me to retirement."

"Ah...no…"

She watched him take the cut and peeled vegetables to the pan along with the wrapped fish. He poured olive oil and the ingredients in with a sizzle before he turned and leaned on the counter.

"Small personal injury firm." He clarified. "I guess I wasn't ready for a body bag either."

Liv tilted her head, attempting to discern his expression, as it seemed neither joking nor happy.

"How's that going?" She posed the question as harmless, and sipped her wine.

It wasn't cruelty that made her wish for his unhappiness, but rather a hope that his unhappiness stemmed from her absence in his life. She hoped that in some way he'd find he was missing something, just as she'd eventually learned to live with the hole gaping in her heart. Perhaps, in the beginning she hadn't wanted to accept it for what it was, but she silently prayed that he wouldn't be so resistant to the truth.

She'd arrived here, hesitant and terrified, but as their conversation wore on, she was struck with a new fear. That she would leave here and nothing would change. That they would go on as they had in the past five years, somehow willing to accept the past for what is was. That she would return home alone, unfulfilled, untouched…

She glanced up from her wine, and their eyes met across the room. His gaze was solemn, brow furrowed as his contemplation of his answer extended into uncomfortable silence.

"Do you like it?" She urged in a whisper at last.

He glanced away, and pushed off the counter.

"As much as I can, I suppose." He finally replied, his answer ambiguous and unsatisfying.

Grabbing a spatula from the drawer, he began to stir the vegetables, his shoulders holding a tense frame of discomfort. She'd hit a nerve.

She wanted to say more, to push him towards revealing more of his true feelings and intentions, but for the moment, the tiniest revelation of the extent of his unhappiness left her silently wondering what it all meant.

She quietly sipped her wine, and watched him cook until at last he began to describe his process of making the perfect salmon, a blatant change of subject that she didn't protest. She nodded, smiled, and followed along to his unsolicited cooking lesson, all while ignoring the stinging throb in her chest.

The night wasn't over, but she felt as though there were a giant clock hanging above them, counting down. They'd already let so many second tick by. She'd barely begun to forgive him for five years, but she knew that if she left tonight pass her by, she'd never forgive herself.


	3. Chapter 3

"Another glass of wine?"

They were nearly through with their dinner when Rafael posed the question, motioning with the bottle and it's minimal remaining contents. She'd already had two.

"Ahhh….oh, why not?" She complied with a groan, pushing her glass towards him.

The tension has somewhat broken once they'd sat down to eat, though Olivia knew they could both still sense the murky feelings floating just beneath the jovial surface. They'd broached lighter topics, and she'd pulled out her phone to show him photos of Noah, of Amanda's children, of Sonny's boyfriend and their engagement, of Fin and his grandson. He'd seemed genuinely thrilled to see that his former co-workers were doing well, but at the fringes of it all, an inescapable sadness. There was no mention of his own life in Montauk, any friends, or possible lovers. The more that Olivia rambled on about SVU and her detectives the more she began to view Rafael's beautiful beach house as more of a prison of loneliness rather than a merciful, beautiful escape.

As he poured them both another glass of wine, she watched his every movement and expression with a curiosity that she could not quell. She wanted to know everything that was going through his mind, but after their emotional conversation on the couch, he seemed to have locked that part of himself back up, as though he only allowed himself an allotted amount of misery. She wanted terribly to pull his walls back down again, but she didn't know how to get back in. All she could do was helplessly play along with their dinner and drinks facade, and hope that the conversation would lead to something more.

"I've got seconds if you want." Rafael offered as he finished pouring with a graceful twist of his wrist.

"I think I'm good." Olivia replied leaning back in her chair. "You really are an excellent cook though."

He smiled softly at the compliment, and slipped down from the barstool to take their plates away.

"Shall I call you an Uber?" He asked as he scraped off the plates and began to wash them in the sink. "I imagine you'll want to get home to Noah."

Olivia froze at his comment, the words sticking in her throat. She glanced down at her watch, noting that several hours had passed since she'd arrived. It seemed like barely a few moments.

"I...uh…." She stammered, attempting to come up with a reason to stay. "I think I'll finish my wine first."

"Hence the Uber." He jabbed lightly as he finished washing the plates, and turned back towards her.

"Trying to get rid of me?" She returned with a raised brow, hoping that their teasing banter would smooth over the panic burgeoning in her throat.

She wasn't ready to leave. In fact, she felt as though they'd barely scraped the surface of the real reason behind their visit. They could cry on and on about the past, but what he had done and how the cards had fallen in the aftermath could not be changed. She understood that, perhaps more than anyone. Now, the future lay before them, and they were not so helpless to it.

"Of course not." Rafael answered her with a smile and dip of his head, before he turned and began wiping down the counter. "You're more than welcome to stay. I've still got the fire going, and I think the couch is calling my name."

"Yeah, that sounds good." Olivia murmured, watching as he focused far too intensely upon his tidying.

She sipped her wine until at last, he looped the towel through one of the drawer handles, and turned towards her.

"Join me for a nightcap?" He quipped, whisking his own glass from the counter, and offering her his hand.

She smiled, and took his fingers to steady herself as she slid down from the stool. She was grateful that he'd acquiesced, but behind his charm, she could sense that there were things that he wanted to say. She wondered how long he had wanted to say them now, how many nights he'd lain awake thinking of her, how many days it'd taken him to gather to courage to text her. How long would it take him now to truly open his heart to her?

She followed him back out into the living room, spotting the couch where they'd so recently held each other. It was already a piece of a memory that she wanted to hold onto far too tightly. If she wasn't careful it would be all she had once she left the beach house.

Rafael settled down on the couch, one leg tucked underneath, arm leisurely laid over the back. She sank down next to him, close enough to position his hand behind her, and cupped her wine glass close to her lips. In the silence, the fire crackled, and beyond the walls of the beach house, the evening waves rolled against the wintery, cold shoreline.

"So…" Olivia murmured, glancing over at him. "I've talked about myself, the squad, my kid, my friends' kids… What about you?"

Rafael hesitated with his lips poised to his glass. He took a long drink, slowly savoring the wine in his mouth before his throat bobbed with a swallow.

"Well…." He began, glancing down and smoothing his pant leg with one palm, distractedly. "Like I told you, I started working for a personal injury law firm about… two years ago."

"And before that?" She asked, softly, scrutinizing the hesitancy and the strain in his posture and voice.

"A lot of things I don't like to think about." He murmured, huskily, taking another drink of the wine.

"You can tell me. I want to know it all." Olivia whispered, shifting closer to him, and angling her body inwards.

"Why?" He asked, his brow furrowing with the first hints of pain since their shared tears.

"Because… I care about you, and I've missed you."

His jaw clenched and he turned the wine glass around on his knee, silent for several more moments.

"A lot of uncertainty." He finally answered, his voice strained against emotion. "I stayed in New York at first, but the press was horrific. I packed up in one night, and moved to California in the middle of the night… which turned out to be a mistake. There was nothing there for me."

"Wow…." Olivia murmured, taken aback by how much she actually had missed.

 _California?_ She thought, trying to imagine him there. He'd been all the way across the country, and she hadn't even known.

"I stayed for almost two years, but in the end, I decided to come back." Rafael continued. "I floated along for awhile, doing sort of a private, one man practice out of the flat I was renting. Then one day, I was running along the beach out here, and I noticed they were beginning to develop the land. I went up and bargained with all I had until they sold to me. I remember that morning when I received the deed… I stood out on the rocks where the house is now standing, and I watched the sunrise with that paper in my hand. The first thing that I truly felt was mine since…" His voice trailed off, and Olivia's chest clenched.

She reached out, and clasped his knee, stroking her thumb over the material of his jeans. She hoped that the simple gesture would convey her support and that he would continue to trust her. Though his recollections of the past five years didn't seem anything close to happy and it caused her more pain than expected, she wanted to be his confidant as she had been before. She wanted that, and so much more.

"It was the first time I'd been happy in a long time…." Rafael continued, softly, a smile finally touching his lips. " The next day I hired a personal contractor, and decided I needed a solid job here. Building a house isn't cheap."

"I don't expect so." Olivia echoed with a rough laugh.

"I couldn't exactly ask you out here when I had no job and nothing to my name." He added, casting her a facetious gaze.

Despite the tone of humor that he glazed the comment with, Olivia could still see the serious expression hiding somewhere in his eyes. Her heart tripped in her chest at the thought that she'd been on his mind before the house they now sat in even existed.

"It wouldn't have mattered." She whispered, emotion twisting her tone, as she gave his knee a squeeze. "I would've come. I would've flown to California if you had asked me."

"I would not have asked that of you, Liv." He replied, sliding his hand down to greet her with a warmth that spread to her chest. "I am entirely grateful that you even came here."

"Of course I did." Olivia whispered, passionately, leaning forward to place her glass on the coffee table.

Turning back towards him, she caught his cheek in her palm, guiding his face towards her. His lids fluttered shut, and she felt jaw ripple beneath soft flesh and prickly stubble.

"There wasn't a second or hesitation in my heart." She whispered, bending closer.

Their foreheads met in the middle, and he reached up to cradle her wrist. His thumb was soft against her pulse, but she was sure that he could feel the fluttering throb that had resided in her veins from the moment she'd received his message.

Her eyes stung as she gazed down at his mouth, and felt the emotion like an undulating undertow. Like the ocean beyond, the placid surface of their meeting held much more underfoot than could be seen from above. The waves were gentle enough, but if she let herself be pulled under she knew the passion that would wreck her. It had haunted her long enough, at night in bed, at work when all she wanted was him, in court when she'd glanced up to see someone else in his place.

She felt his fingers tense around her wrist, and he whispered her name, soft as a prayer. He ducked his head, his mouth pressing to her palm, warm and inviting. She drew a sharp breath, her nerve endings sparking, rushing down her arm, straight to the center of her body.

"Rafael…" She returned, desperate for the air to remain in her lungs, yet also in agony for him to take it away.

Her heart was pounding in her ears, and she prayed that the meaning of his soft, yet passionate display was not only of her imagination, but his as well. She was ready to open herself up to him, and after five years of contemplating the error of letting him walk out of her life, she did not think she could handle a second parting. If a kiss on the forehead or her hand was all he could give her, she knew with a certainty that it would never be enough. She had encountered Fate once on the front steps of that courthouse, and she had turned away with fear in her heart. If she turned away away now, destiny was certain to escape her forever.

"Rafael…" She repeated, bitter tears of regret in her eyes.

At her whisper, he seemed to crumple. Sinking down against her, he pressed his face to her neck, and she could feel his breath, quick and shallow, against her collar bone. She took the wine glass from his trembling hand, and sat it next to her own on the coffee table before she wrapped her arms around his shoulders tight. Her embrace could not hold him close enough. She wanted to press herself into him, and he into her until they were irrevocably intertwined. His own hands were on her body, clutching her waist, holding the small of her back. She closed her eyes, feeling each inch of flesh come alive and burn beneath his fingers.

She could feel the walls they had built crumbling into ruin in the flames that flickered between them. Five years of pretending, and five trying to forget seemed to slip away from her as she pressed her cheek to his head, and let him cling to her in all the fear, and heartache, and loneliness that she knew he'd been hiding.

"Forgive me, Liv." He whispered at last, his voice shredded with agony.

"I forgive you." She insisted, pressing her lips to his temple.

His fingers tightened around her waist, and he lifted his head from her shoulder. Their eyes met, bare inches from each other, and it was the most raw and honest she'd ever seen his expression. A shiver overtook her body as he reached up to touch her face. His fingers danced over her cheekbone and jawline, and she closed her eyes with a soft moan.

Just this, just his hand upon her cheek, was so beautiful and so complete, enough to take the strength from her body, but then his breath was upon her mouth. His fingers slipped into her hair, and she drew a halting breath as their half lidded eyes searched each other.

"Rafa…" She whispered, a tear escaping from her lid.

Then he pressed into her, closing whatever gap remained between them. His lips were crushing, like the waves that hit the shore below in an overwhelming tide. Warmth burst across her body, from her aching mouth to the core of her being, to every tingling extremity. Her fingers wrenched tight around the material of his sweater as her lower lip slipped inside the hot confines of his mouth. Her cradled the back of her head, pulling her closer as her jaw slackened to his coaxing. His tongue arched up past her teeth, and she moaned, feeling the vibration echo into his throat. Angling her mouth against his, she returned the suave gesture of his tongue, her heart racing and tripping in her chest.

She barely allowed herself to dream of such things though at times she'd found herself gasping awake, the taste of his mouth escaping away from her, the feeling of his body inside her disintegrating into a memory. This, however, was not a fantasy. This was real, and if she opened her eyes, they'd still be here on his couch, inexplicably tangled together.

Their mouths broke apart, and she could hear them both panting in the silence. His head was pressed against hers, and his hand still clutched her neck. It was all she could feel aside from her bursting blood pressure.

"Shit…" She breathed, one set of fingers trembling around his shirt while she clutched her throbbing mouth with the other.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time." Rafael whispered, reaching up to gently tuck her hair back from her cheek. "I just didn't know how to tell you… Especially after…"

She nodded slowly, her eyes closed as she tried to regain her breath.

"Are you all right, Liv?" He asked, quietly, when she didn't verbally respond.

"Yes…" She murmured, letting her hand slip from her mouth to her chest.

Beneath her palm, her heart slammed against her ribs. She felt dazed by the kiss, and the sudden completion of her desires. While she had hoped for an honest reconciliation, a part of her had held back in fear, expecting him not to be so forthright. Up until yesterday morning, she'd gone about her life with no intentions of beginning a committed relationship. She'd tried to put him from her mind, and accept that whatever they'd had was not meant to be. She'd tried so damn hard that she had almost believed it. Almost.

She opened her eyes, and glanced up at his expectant gaze.

"Are you sure?" He asked, his thumb rubbing softly against her ear and cheekbone.

"I just…" She began, her voice emitting in croak. "I wasn't expecting it."

"I'm sorry, Liv." He murmured. "I'm sorry for leaving, and I'm sorry it took so long to call."

She nodded once more, staring down at their laps where their legs were bent and tangled together. A quick burn of tears filled her eyes. She felt overwhelmed by the past and the present, by the time that stretched between the two points.

"Let's just sit here for awhile, okay?" She whispered, her voice weak and raspy.

"For however long you want." Rafael murmured, slowly kissing her forehead. "I've waited five years. A little longer won't kill me."

She smiled with tears in her eyes. This time, when he lips touched her crown, it didn't feel like the end. It felt like the beginning.


End file.
